


London Syndrome

by jenish (phizzle)



Category: Muse, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-06
Updated: 2006-11-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:43:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/jenish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For fleener.</p>
    </blockquote>





	London Syndrome

**Author's Note:**

> For fleener.

At the point in time when Jon locked eyes with Matt Bellamy across the room, he promptly forgot a) what he was there for; b) his own name; c) the name of his band; d) who his first kiss had been; in fact, e) everything but a small bar of sunlight on the floor back home in Chicago on a Tuesday afternoon in summer, and the colour of Matt's eyes.

"Jon," Spencer poked him in the arm. "_Jon_. Are you okay? Jon?"

"Uh," a smile began spreading on Brendon's mouth, "I think he's just spotted that guy from Muse."

"Stand aside, gentlemen," Ryan said, and his smile was the bookend to Brendon's, the two of them sweeping arms either side, and when Jon took a step forward his foot felt warm for a second, as if he'd stepped into a patch of sunlight, but then he remembered who he was, and what he was doing, and he blinked and stopped.

"Should I go over?" he whispered at Brendon.

"_Yes_," Brendon said, and oh, okay. He sounded sure. Jon took another step forward, and another, and wanted to stop again but Matt had noticed his progress and was smiling and there was no going back now.

"Hi," Jon swallowed, after what had seemed like the longest crossing of a room in _history_.

"Hi." Matt was still smiling. That was a good sign. "You're Jon Walker, right?"

For a fleeting second, Jon considered pinching himself to make sure this wasn't a dream. "I," he said. "Er, I, yeah. Yeah, that's me."

"I'm Matt." He held out a hand that it took Jon a second to remember he was supposed to shake. "So I hear you like our music."

"Yeah," and Jon would feel intelligent again any minute now. He would sound suave, he would sound sure of himself, he would sound anything other than an idiot. "I really like what you've done in the past, and your new stuff, it's – it's just, _great_."

Any minute now. Really.

Matt's lips curved up in another smile, and Jon swallowed. "Thanks," Matt said, putting his drink down and leaning close to Jon's ear. "Want to get out of here for a bit?"

Jon swallowed. And then again, just to make sure. "Yeah," he said.

~

Guitar notes soared, cymbals crashed, and Jon unconsciously followed the pattern of the bass with his fingertips against the soft fabric of his jeans. Eyes closed, headphones clamped to his ears, moving imperceptibly to the beat, he wouldn't have noticed if the bus exploded.

Well. Maybe he'd notice _that_. He hummed under his breath, picked up a sound that had nothing to do with the music or his own heartbeat, and hit 'stop'.

He heard it again. A soft thumping sound. It was followed this time by a muffled, hissed, "Bollocks."

Jon opened his eyes and sat up. He was still alone in the front lounge. The sound had come from outside.

He swung the door open and was greeted by the sight of Matt, the heel of one hand in his mouth, blinking up at him. "Oh."

"Matt? I haven't seen you in – what – hi?"

"I, uh, where's Zack? He was supposed to – fuck, never mind. Can I come in?"

Jon stood aside, and Matt brushed his arm against Jon's hip as he passed. Jon shut the door.

"You're in the country," Matt said. "And, so am I."

"So you decided to -"

"- Sneak onto your bus in the middle of the night, yeah."

"Oh." Jon paused. "Okay."

"Listen, I – about last time."

"Hey, you don't have to – uh, do you want a drink?" Jon turned away.

"Jon, last time I saw you," Matt started, and _I almost kissed you_ hung on the air. One night, Jon thought. One night of drinking beer out of pint glasses and bottles, of conversations that had gone on so long Brendon had almost sent out a search party for him, one night when Matthew Bellamy and Jonathan Walker were alone in a hotel room and _almost_ kissed.

Jon shrugged. "You didn't have to come all this way just to –"

"Just – I didn't come here to – oh, fuck it." Matt hooked a finger into Jon's belt loop and turned him to face him. "Jon," he said, and then there was his mouth, and it connected with Jon's, and Jon pulled him closer and moved his lips and he breathed into the spaces in between them. Jon's chin rasped against Matt's jaw, he felt the soft, wet, warm edge of Matt's tongue slip against his lips, and a sound escaped through his nose.

The kiss broke off after a couple of minutes. Jon licked his lips. The bottom one had cracked.

"I've never kissed a bloke before," Matt said, damp breath ghosting over Jon's cheek.

"I have," Jon replied. "I mean, Brendon, a couple of times, but not – I haven't _meant_ it."

"Yeah," Matt nodded. "Want to do that again?"

"Yes," Jon breathed, "please."


End file.
